Rinocerose: Installation Sonore

House music is inherently simple and generally repetitive, so no matter how creative the artist gets, the music is still primarily functional: If people don't dance, it doesn't matter how many embellishments you've added. Yet for some reason, whenever a group releases a slightly novel house album, people rejoice as if someone just reinvented the wheel. In some cases, the excitement seems justified (Daft Punk), but in others, the hype is grossly out of proportion (the overrated Basement Jaxx). But at their essence, all house records are framed by that familiar four-four disco thump, and it takes one heck of a band to transcend that limitation. France's Rinocerose is this year's contender for a breakthrough dance artist, a club favorite that's also conducive to listening. Maybe that's because the team of Jean-Philippe Freu and Patrice "Patou" Carrie (both psychologists by day) put more thought into their thoughtless dance music than most. The secret is the inclusion of flute and electric guitar, the latter a visceral instrument that nicely complements the otherwise slick programming on Installation Sonore. The combination hearkens back to Technique-era New Order, minus the vocals and the rest of the punk remnants, with the tracks in permanent 12" remix mode. Consequently, there's a refreshing air of spontaneity to Rinocerose, even though it sounds as if the "band" elements are struggling impressively to emerge from under all the sequencing, and the four-four frame remains dominant. Of course, there's nothing wrong with that, but it does cast the group's minor accomplishments—dance music that's more man than machine—into a less mysterious light.